Paige Zadoo: How Harbinger let my guard down and emotions in

“Joining Harbinger gave me a second family.” God, here come the floodgates.

As I sat down on a Tuesday night at 9:55 p.m., I couldn’t write a single sentence without hysterically bawling. A week before my last ever Harbinger deadline *blubbers* I decided exactly what I wanted to write about: gaining a family through a high school newspaper staff. At least I thought I knew. 

But looking at my keyboard covered in tears and snot over a single sentence, I realized that wasn’t the goodbye I wanted to give or the lesson I truly learned. 

Three years ago you couldn’t catch me dead expressing emotion or leaning on others for help. Ever.

Joining Harbinger, I was terrified of a senior tearing apart my social media posts or — even scarier — Dow Tate shredding my story to bits. So my mantra was: “Show no emotion and whatever you do, don’t ask for help.” Showing weakness? Please.

However, this mantra bit me in the butt. Hard. In simple terms, my work kind-of-really sucked. Seriously, never read a story I wrote my sophomore year. 

But in my junior year, I realized I had to step it up if I wanted to flourish on Harbinger. 

I wrote spread over male body dysmorphia finally getting several Tate edits, asked my social media editor Sophie Henschel for new Instagram posts to make so I could be appointed to Assistant Social Media Editor, watched dozens of InDesign tutorials about curving text, texted my editors at least five times a day about the nitty gritty of AP style so I could become a copy editor and even took on the role of page designer. *Exhale* 

With these new roles and responsibilities came new emotions. I interviewed people about dreams they were pursuing, swallowing the lump in my throat. I stared at Tate’s edits manically laughing and crying. I screamed into my pillow because I couldn’t figure out how to organize a sidebar for the hundredth time. All these emotions I talked about? Yep, they finally seeped in.

But after, I’d FaceTime my support systems Anna and PMO for design help, I’d text Chez to help decipher Tate’s edits and I’d FaceTime Ben to simply scream and rant. I’d text just about everyone on staff for help, to listen to me ramble, to make me feel better and keep me sane — something my sophomore self never would’ve expected.

Because Harbinger of course gave me a second family — ugh I’m taping my tear ducts at this point — but it also taught me to ask for help, lean on others and use my resources because how else would I flourish and succeed bubbling it all in.